The Trumpeter's Lullaby
by whitetyger123
Summary: Alfred plays to the streets in New Orleans, and is about to get an admirer, if the strange Russian immigrant could be called that. RP written by me and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture, warnings for a lot of stuff. AU
1. Chapter 1

The streets were fairly empty at this time of day because everyone was going home for a late dinner. Ivan didn't, since he wasn't hungry and didn't have a place to go home to. There was noise coming from the open windows of houses nearby, the nights still warm in New Orleans.

There was a different sound as he turned the corner, a tune and melodious beat. Someone was playing a trumpet down the street. Ivan went to hear, the sound intriguing him. It was almost as if the music had hypnotized him; leading him to it's creator.

There stood the boy, presumably younger than the Russian. All alone, playing the lifting and falling song.

Still blissfully unaware of the Russian man standing off to the side, the blond American let his soul breathe though his trumpeting. The music continued to rise in volume as he let out a piercing note before following a decrescendo back to a reasonable volume for this time of evening. For Alfred, as long as he was playing his trumpet he didn't care about anything else. Not even the few crumpled dollar bills in his case deterred his bright tone.

Not wanting to disturb him, Ivan stayed back a few paces. How could anyone play that beautifully without being taken away by angels to play for them? He couldn't take his eyes off, so entranced as he was by not only the music, but the musician.

The American's eyes slipped shut as he reached the ending of his piece, wanting to milk the notes for their full value. Ballads were usually one of his favourite things to play at night when his lips had become sore. With the last note hanging in the humid air, Alfred opened his eyes and smiled as he took his trumpet from his lips. When he saw the tall, sandy haired man his grin grew wider. "I guess I got's an audience, huh? For a few ones I'll keep playin'. You're choice even, if I know the tune."

Opening his mouth, Ivan closed it again, realizing he had nothing to say. Quickly he searched in his pockets, the spell broken. But he wanted more, anything would do, and this man had said that if he payed, he would play again. Did he have anything? That sound deserved no less than gold, but he knew he didn't have much. In fact, there was no money on him at all tonight. But... he needed to hear more...

"'T's all good if you ain't got nothin', long as ya don't mind me practicin' more than bein' all fancy." Alfred winked as he brought his trumpet back up. "This one's called Rachael." With that, the strong notes of the beginning bled through the southern air.

So not only did he have the talent of an angel, but the kindness of one as well! Ivan quieted his breathing so he could better hear him, wished he could do the same with his pounding heart. He had never heard anything like it before, wanting to bottle it up and keep it for himself. But this couldn't be captured, it had to be free, which was why it was outside.

Seeing the enrapture in his strange audience's eyes, Alfred used it to fuel his own playing. He was sure he had missed a few notes here and there, and there were also a couple notes he could have stretched, but hopefully no one would notice. Speaking of nobody noticing, he hoped that he wouldn't get yelled at to stop playing.

The song continued as it reached a fast, lively segment before flowing naturally to its previous tempo. Without thinking, Alfred had started to move his body along with the song; swaying to and fro as the crystal clear notes swept around him.

His breath caught, watching the music take this beauty, moving with the notes and rhythm. There came a tightening in Ivan's chest as it came to an end, the last high note seeming to leave him on the edge of a cliff. He found himself leaning forward, all his consciousness on the music which was now fading into the night. He looked to see the boy smile, dazzling the tall immigrant even more.

Curious now, Alfred walked away from the wall he was standing against and reached out with his hand that wasn't still holding his instrument. "Name's Alfred. What'cha go by, big guy?"

The name was perfect for the boy, somehow. "Ivan." He said simply, looking at the hand. He wanted to shake? But what if his hand got crushed, what if the person shaking his hand wanted to steal that talent from the world? Ivan kept his hands at his side, for fear of perhaps gripping too hard and damaging those angel sent hands.

Laughing, Alfred put his hand down. "Alright, nice ta meet ya Ivan. What has ya walkin' the streets of New Orleans all by your lonesome?" It seemed like the man was quite the enigma, only uttering a single word so far. Oh well, it made him more interesting than the normal people who walked past him every day.

"You." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. After the spell being cast upon him, he no longer cared for his original reason for going for a walk. How could he have any other reason than to listen to that haunting music?

Alfred's tan skin was dusted pink as he rubbed the back on his neck awkwardly, a smile still on his face. "I guess I'm kinda loud, huh?" Giving an embarrassed chuckle he leaned down to put his trumpet in its case after placing the money in the breast pocket of his worn suit vest. "Still, wouldn't be good ol' New Orleans if there ain't no trumpet blarin' up and down the streets."

Snapping the case shut, he flipped it and sat down with his hands on his knees. "So Ivan, ya from Russia per chance? Not only ya name, but ya nose too. I reckon ya could cut down a tree with it." Laughing again, he shook his head. "Only kiddin', ya know that right? Ya just seem so quiet."

Ivan watched as the pink of the sunset reflected off of Alfred's glasses, making him look for a second unreal, inhuman, because how could a human be this perfect? "Da, yes, Russian." He knew himself that his accent was still very thick, and hard for most to understand, but he didn't want this angel -for surely that was what he was- to know of his own imperfections.

"Ya have a reason fer comin' down to the U S of A Ivan?" Alfred asked, wanting to know more about this interesting man. He just seemed so... Intrigued with him that it was hard for the American to not want to know why. "From what I gather, Russia ain't that bad a place now."

Ah, the sound of the word Russia on his lips, simply perfect. Not sure what to say, since he was not completely sure himself why he had come here, Ivan let his large shoulders lift and lower in a shrugging motion he had so often seen since moving here. "Exploring."

Letting loose a peal of laughter, Alfred bent forward as his body shook before righting himself. "Sorry 'bout that. Ya just so funny, speakin' in one word sentences and such. Explorin'. Best answer I've got from anyone 'round here." Wiping a tear from under his glasses, he continued to grin widely. "Ya seem like a nice fella."

Breath hitching at the rich laughter, Ivan realized it wasn't the music, it was the man. He could make anything vibrate the air, attracting people and making them addicted to his very presence. How had he ever lived without hearing this? No, he hadn't. He had never lived until this very moment, alone in the dreary streets of New Orleans, with the most wondrous man in the world, who was laughing just for him, Ivan, to hear.

"So Ivan, ya wanna make the block for a bit with me? I d'kna if I'll see ya again after this and I can't help but think that's a shame." The Russian man didn't seem to be too much older than him; a year or two and at most three. It wasn't like he was expected anywhere.

Not completely sure what he was being asked, Ivan nodded. He didn't understand all of the slang yet, but it seemed as if Alfred wanted him to say yes. But... he didn't want this to be just for tonight. It couldn't be, he needed that sound, this man, to act as a secondary source of oxygen. But could he truly say what he wanted, with his language skills as flawed as they were? "Do... Do you, ah, play" He searched for the word he wanted, but unable to find it, he had to substitute, "many times here?" If he did, then Ivan could come back and listen, so he wouldn't die from depletion.

Shrugging back in imitation of Ivan, Alfred continued to smile. "Yeah, I play here of'en. Either here or in the small park thatta way. Under the large tree fer shade." He said, pointing down the road. He stood up and picked his trumpet case up as well as his tattered hat which he placed on his head. "Ya have any place ya meanin' ta be? I gots no schedule as it is."

"No." Ivan mumbled, making sure he remembered exactly where that tree was. Tomorrow, perhaps he could get a few coins, even if Alfred deserved much more. He might be able to pick up some odd jobs, they were plentiful here. But it still would not be enough.

"Perfect!" Alfred crowed, patting Ivan on the shoulder. "Ya can walk home with me, if ya wanna. Ya don't hafta if ya don't want. I'll undastand. It'd be nice to hear more o' the Russian accent of yers come out though. Mighty interestin' ta not hear people talk like me all blazing day." The American laughed quietly, looking up at all the lit windows in the twilight.

He would be able to see where he lived? How is it that Ivan was walking under such a lucky star tonight? "I will." He said, perhaps a little firmly. To see where this angel lived, perhaps a cloud descended to Earth. Was it possible for a mere mortal to witness?

It seemed like Alfred couldn't keep himself from laughing around the large Russian. "Y'know, fer a Russian, yer quite all right. Now ya just need ta learn how ta talk more so I don't feel so bad. My mouth'll go a mile a minute if ya let it." The blond started to walk off toward his house, stopping for a second to wait for Ivan to start following him.

Of course he couldn't walk beside him, that would be the place of an equal. No, Ivan was just an admirer, always a few steps behind so his eyes never had to leave their proper place. "Talk. Please." To keep hearing that voice, to keep seeing this angel. After this, to die would be all right, because his life has already been lived in these past few moments.

"Y'don't know what'cha gettin' yerself into there mistah. Talk and a please? Yu'll never get me to shuddap." Looking over his shoulder, he stopped to wait for Ivan to catch up but when he stopped as well he frowned. "Now what's this 'bout? Are ya scared to walk beside me? I asked if ya wanted ta walk with me not follow me." It was too much effort to pretend to be upset at this interesting Russian as his face once again started smiling. "D'y'I need to hold yer hand or somethin'?"

Hold... hands? No, he couldn't possibly mean that. Already he was the most fortunate man on the planet, he couldn't chance it. Instead Ivan simply walked faster, walking almost in tandem with him, but not quite.

Slapping his back, America laughed again. "Much betta. How long ya been here fer? Ya seem ta undastand me somewhat, so ya can't be too new." Shifting his case to his other hand, he decided to wait for Ivan's answer before he got too bad a case of the jabber-jaws.

He had just been touched by Angel and was still here. Was that possible? He took a few quick breaths, making sure the phenomenon beside him didn't notice. "Few months." Maybe. He hadn't been counting the days, so there was no way to be sure. It was now completely dark, the sidewalk being lit by a few dim lamps.

"S'plains it I guess. But yeah, welcome to my humble abode!" Holding his arm open, he gestured to a wooden door to a long, narrow house close to the river. "'T's not much, but it's roof ova my head." He said with a grin and a spark of joy in his eyes. Ivan was so quiet and didn't seem to mind at all that he didn't stop talking which was nice to the American. "Sorry to say, but I'll hafta see ya t'morrow Ivan. See ya by the tree?"

Getting a good look at the house, Ivan still made sure to pay attention to every detail of what the angel said and did, which is why he caught what he said. He would have to wait for tomorrow? Really? "Tree, yes." How many hours until he could see him, hear him again?

Pulling out a small key from his jeans pocket, Alfred gave Ivan a two-finger mock salute with a wink. "G'night Ivan. Nice ta meet ya." With that, he unlocked his door and slipped inside.

Waiting for a second or two at the door, Ivan then turned around and retraced their steps. Along the way, he watched the ground, searching for any loose change people may have dropped. This would be his only way of repaying the debt his ears had amounted. He could never pay it back fully, but he would try until his last breath.

Once he made it all the way back, Ivan looked up for the tree. Yes, there it was. Where Alfred would be tomorrow, where he would wait. He sat down on the concrete, waiting for his angel to bring the morning light.

* * *

Here is a link for the song Alfred played for Ivan. http ://www .youtube. com/wat ch?v=2IkxYNMyffg Just take out the spaces. So imagine that, but with only the trumpet... and better than it is here.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred yawed widely as he sat up in bed. Groaning as his joints popped back into place, he stood from his simple bed and after making it went to the bathroom to shower and such. He was fairly excited to see if Ivan was going to be there like they planned, but the man seemed so strange that he might not show up. Oh well, the Russian enigma named Ivan would just not be his enigma to get to know then.

Making himself a simple breakfast sandwich, he ate it as he walked out his door with his trumpet and his hat. He could lose everything else under his name but as long as he had those two things he'd be fine.

Passing the people who were already up in the New Orleans sunrise, he nodded and smiled at each and every one- fairly well known around his neighbourhood as well as where he normally set up to busk. He always got his energy and passion from the people walking around, but he had never felt drawn to them as he had with Ivan. It was strange really.

What was stranger yet was even in the distance he could see that large figure sitting under his tree, seemingly waiting for him. His grin breaking out wider, he ran up to the man. "Heya Ivan! Where y'at?"

Confused at the question, Ivan looked up. The sun was shining behind Alfred, making him look even more angel-like. "Um... here?" But it didn't matter anymore. After the hours of waiting, angel was back, so everything would be alright now.

"Sorry, I fergot yer not used to the 'local dialect' too much yet. Ya feeling good righ'?" He asked as Ivan nodded slowly. "So ya'd say 'Aright'. Just askin' ya how ya are."

He cared how he was feeling! Amazing! "A...right?" Did he say it right? This must be some form of passage, he couldn't spend time with Angel unless he said that. His accent wasn't too heavy, was it? Ivan couldn't bungle this up, he just couldn't!

Grinning from ear to ear, Alfred placed his trumpet case on the ground before slapping his shoulder again. "G'job! Yer already soundin' like my neighbours. But sorry I can't talk too much longer, I gotta start my buskin' y'know."

Start playing? Oh God, how could he pass up the chance to not listen? He stood back, wanting to give him as much space as the notes needed to get out into the air, to fly away on the wind, like they were intended. Like angel intended.

Opening his case up to pedestrians, Alfred picked up his trumpet and mouthpiece and put them together before punching out a few notes. Getting into the groove of things, he then started on a few blues scales before smiling over to Ivan. "What'cha think I should play first? Latin or good ol' fashion jazz?"

Did angel really think him capable, learned enough to make a decision like that? "Music." He said simply. Anything that came out of that instrument was instantly golden air, and ears it delicately touched were blessed. How could he possibly decide what was enchanted out of it?

Laughing loudly, he smiled down at the Russian man. "Man, yer such a hoot. Why haven't I seen ya 'round here before?" Without waiting for a response, he placed his instrument back to his lips and started a high energy Latin solo to get his blood pumping.

Ivan listened. It was wondrous, amazing. The man behind the music even more so. After some time, Ivan had no idea just how long, he took one of the coins he had found the night before, dropping it in the case with his eyes to the ground. He didn't want Alfred to see how little he had put in, how little he was able to pay for such art. But what else was he to do?

Alfred allowed himself to grin in his mind without stopping his improvised solo. Really,that guy was just too adorable in his own, weird Russian way. Once his solo was over he bowed to the small crowd that had formed and then dissipated. Oh well, it was still early. Maybe they would come back and listen with some change next time.

Why... were there other people listening? Ivan should be enough! Why were they looking at his angel? Sent to him when he was at his lowest point, when he had felt he had no purpose! Just then, a beauty comes, it is obviously meant for him! The Russian couldn't stop the small well of anger rising in his chest as someone dared to throw a few coins in the case. No! Alfred belonged to him, not everyone else!

Oblivious to Ivan's mental trauma, Alfred had winked down from the rocky ledge he was playing from. It wasn't much, but it was each of those 'not much'es that managed to feed him if not clothe him as well. All he was glad for was that the house had been in his family for years so he didn't need to pay mortgage. If that was the case, he wouldn't be in New Orleans very much longer. "Thanks Ma'am!" He crowed, all smiles. "Any tunes ya'd like ta hear?"

His... his angel was winking to someone else? But, all those winks, they had been for him! He was the only one who should get those winks, the only one who should get to request! Even if he never would, wanting the infinite knowledge of Alfred decide for him, but that shouldn't take away his right to that! Ivan looked away, disgusted.

Looking back down to Ivan, Alfred frowned lightly when he saw the other's eyebrows knitted together. Did he not like the song? Still, it had been requested so he played through it for the lady until it was done and waited until she walked away to jump off the ledge. Going over to the Russia, he tilted his head. "Ya ok Ivan? Somethin' wrong with how I played it ya think?" Because really, he was the first person to have watched him for so long already. Alfred had the occasional dancer that would stay for two songs maybe three, but they would part after a quick thanks and a few dollar bills.

Not trusting himself to say anything, Ivan stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the few other coins he had. Trying not to frown -he didn't want Alfred thinking he was angry at him- the Russian threw the few measly coins into the case and turned around and left.

"Ivan?" He yelled after the retreating back of the Russian. Well, it wasn't like he had to stay there... Alfred knew that he was only listening because he wanted to. It wasn't like he was going to make anyone listen to his playing if they didn't want to. Really though, he was surprised the Russian didn't stay with how enraptured he seemed to be in the music. Still, that wasn't a reason for Alfred to stop now. Placing his trumpet back to his lips, he started a slower ballad that he transcribed from a baritone saxophone feature.

Walking down the street, Ivan was still fuming. Those people, how could they disrespect such a beauty? Such God given talent? It just wasn't right that Alfred should pay them any attention. He was the only one that truly respected him.

Of course... he only had a few cents to give. Ivan wasn't completely used to American currency, but he was sure that wasn't much. Angels deserved much more than a few measly cents picked from the ground. He hadn't even worked for them! That person that had thrown in some coins had obviously given him more than Ivan had. It only made sense that she would be more important.

It came down to wealth. Ivan was dirt poor, so he shouldn't even be listening to Alfred as it was. He needed money, and once he had some, Alfred wouldn't have to perform for anyone else. He looked down the street, seeing a few stores. He went in one, that seemed to sell mainly figurines and little things.

Going to the front desk, the Russian looked for a person working. There seemed to be a man in the back, trying to lift a very heavy box. Ivan knocked on the counter, wanting to get his attention.

Hearing the knock, Antonio stopped trying to lift the box and instead went out to the counter. "Hello, how can I help you?" He asked with a peaceful smile.

"Job. I lift boxes, you pay." Ivan said, pointing to the boxes that he had been trying to lift. If he got a job doing things around this small store, he could catch the last few songs from Alfred, and then he could pay him.

Thinking for a second, the owner shrugged lightly. "I could use the help, but I don't have enough money to pay you for a job. If you want though, I could pay you when I need the help. Such as right now." Letting the tall man into the back, Antonio explained. "I just need these boxes moved over there," with that he pointed, "so I can ship them out. It shouldn't take too long for you and I will give you a couple dollars."

Nodding, Ivan went to the back and picked up the boxes with minimal effort. He had always known he was strong, and now it was coming in handy. After a few minutes, the boxes were moved. "Other?" He hoped he could get a little more than a few dollars, even if it would be more than he had thrown in there today.

"If you want, I will let you dust the store for five dollars. I haven't been able to have a siesta in so long it would feel nice." The owner sighed dreamily, waving him off. "If any customers come in, please come and wake me."

Grabbing a duster, Ivan started. He dusted every shelf and figurine, wanting to do a good job so he might be asked for some other things. He was about half way done, when he saw a small, porcelain figurine, of a tiny trumpet, exactly like the one Alfred played. He picked it up, dusting it off more carefully than the others. Perhaps, one day he could buy that figurine, give it as an offering.

But not today. Today, he was getting money for Alfred, not figurines.

* * *

Sorry about the short chapter. I promise next one will be longer.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until the sun had started to set that Alfred had truly become worried. Did he do something to scare Ivan away? He seemed like a pretty chill guy, so he was surprised when he just up and left for so long. Maybe he was disappointed? Well, Alfred knew he couldn't keep everyone happy, no matter how hard he tried. Still, he felt a sense of failure as he bowed to all the people watching him by the tree before packing up to move to the street corner. It was always the same schedule, because he knew that was where the people would enjoy his playing the most.

As he started up one of his last fast songs of the night -this one a fast, up-tempo jazz swing- he saw the large man wandering around where he was just minutes ago. So he did come back! Not wanting to stop playing yet, he tried to project his sound in such a way that Ivan would be able to see where he was now.

Looking around, Ivan was confused. Where was his angel? His angel had disappeared, leaving the faint echo of song. But... this one sounded different. He didn't think he had heard it before. Quickly, he glanced in the direction it seemed to be coming from.

Waving his one hand for a second, Alfred quickly placed it back on his trumpet to finish the chart. As he finished, he waved again. "Heya Ivan! Ya worried me! I thought ya didn't like my playin' anymore." He smiled as the Russian came over to where he was standing now. "I was gunna ask if ya wanted to have some grub with me fer lunch but I gots too hungry to wait."

"Ok." Ivan said, then dug in his pocket for the eight dollars he had gotten from the store. He bent down, letting the bills fall in the case. It still wasn't enough, obviously, but he would get more eventually, he really would.

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred bent down and picked the bills up, counting them as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I can't take this from ya Ivan. 'T's too much." Handing it back, he shrugged with a small bubble of laughter. "I'd feel terrible if I just went and kept all yer money."

Shaking his head, the Russian pushed the hand back. This would barely cover the sweet music he had heard today, never mind yesterday, after having spent time with him and walking him home. Ivan knew he had a debt he had to pay back, but he could only do it slowly.

"Fine, I'll take it only if ya let me buy ya somethin' in return." The optimistic blond said, grinning from ear to ear. "How 'bout some crawfish? They're supposed'ta be a local specialty. Least I could do fer ya. I could prally go fer some now if ya wanna."

His first reaction was to refuse. After all, he had given Alfred that money so he could use it for him. But, it seemed to make his angel happy... and it would mean spending more time with him. What if angel wanted to go home if he didn't eat crawfish with him? So, after a slight hesitation, Ivan nodded.

Cheering in celebration, Alfred made short work of putting his instrument away and then tipping his hat back. "How 'bout ya say it first? I wanna hear yer Russian accent again. Seems t'me like ya don't care fer talkin' all that much, huh? 'T's'shame."

Confused at why the angel wanted to hear his horribly strong accent, Ivan searched around for the words. "Where... now?" He asked slowly, trying to pronounce the sounds that were a little different from Russian.

"Betta! I know a little restaurant that makes the most deeeelicious crawfish in the world!" He said, drawing out the e in delicious. "I just know ya gonna love it to pieces." It was a nice difference to hear Ivan's natural accent since Alfred was so immersed in his own. He doubted that he heard anyone from further north of the Louisiana border since he was fourteen.

Following him, Ivan remembered last night and walked almost beside him. Yes, now his anger from the morning had almost completely disappeared, because he was once again with his angel, and they were going to eat together.

"Oh! I totally fergot to ask ya yesterday! How old are ya Ivan? It's been itchin' my brain fer a good long time now." Alfred asked conversationally, looking up at the man's face. He had estimated, but he wanted to know.

Closing his eyes for a second, Ivan had to count up from zero, because he hadn't learnt his numbers very well. Trying to not let Alfred see what he was doing, he counted with his fingers. After a few seconds, he was pretty sure he had the right number. "Twenty-one. You?"

"That's the most English I've heard come outta yer mouth fer a while!" Alfred exclaimed before adding. "I'm nineteen. My birthday is in 'round two months give'r'take a few days. Haven't had a chance t'look at a calendar fer a while."

Nineteen. Ivan wondered if that was in human, or angel years. He doubted he would ever find out, though, so he just continued following, hoping this place wouldn't cost more than the eight dollars, or else he would owe him more still.

Alfred just continued to smile as he pointed to the restaurant which was only a bit away. "There it is! Best darn crawfish then anything I could whip up. And trust me, I've dabbled in it and it never worked out." It probably was because the man was French, but it didn't matter too much. Grabbing onto Ivan's wrist, he all but dragged the tall Russian man behind him.

Looking at where bare skin touched bare skin, Ivan felt his eyes go wide. His hand was so soft! Must be because he was a musician and needed his hands. All thoughts about the food were blown out of his mind, feeling the warm hand inflame his own flesh.

Bursting into the small restaurant, Alfred ignored the people already eating and dragged Ivan to the kitchen with him. He hadn't seen Francis in so long! They weren't really friends, but he was always nice enough to give the American a small discount. "Where are ya Francis? Git yer ass out here." He yelled into the kitchen, not seeing the suave blond man. "Yer gonna like him, as long as he keeps his hands t'himself."

Hearing his name called, the flamboyant Frenchman came out of the back room. "Alfred! 'ow are you doing?" He asked, his accent strangely fitting in perfectly with the surroundings. "Oh, you have un ami as well!"

"All's great!" He answered, giving Francis a hug. "This is Ivan. He came here from Russia. Don't be shy, ya can say 'hello' back y'know." Alfred goaded Ivan with a grin. "Francis doesn't bite unless ya ask 'im to."

Disgusted that Alfred would hug someone like that, Ivan gave the Parisian a glare. "Hello." He said stiffly. His angel obviously didn't know who was bad to be around, so he would have to protect him from people like that.

Getting a little afraid of the look the large man was giving him, Francis gave a nervous smile. "Nice to meet you, as well." Normally he would have given him at least a hug, but with this man would have feared for his life doing so.

"Don't mind him, he's not a real chatter-box. I have enough t'say that I fill the silence." Alfred laughed quietly. "But yeah, we came here fer some o' yer famous crawfish! This fellow right here gave me eight whole bucks an' I figured it was the least I could do t'fill his belly and mine too.'" Smiling, he looked at both of them, blissfully unaware to the nervous look on Francis face or the cold one on Ivan's.

"Ah, of course, I should have guessed. Sit, please, I will take it to you." Francis said, wanting to get away from this Ivan as fast as possible. He seemed... almost like a loyal dog, protecting its owner.

Nodding, Alfred tipped his hat to Francis before pulling Ivan along again. "I'm surprised tha' he didn't want to talk more... Oh well, he's prally just makin' sure we get the best darn crawfish he has." Finding a spot for them to sit, he plopped down in one chair and gestured to the other. "Y'don't have to wait fer permission 'round here." He laughed as he placed his trumpet next to him with his hat next on top of the case.

Sitting opposite him, Ivan was glad the Frenchman had left Alfred alone. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten with anyone, usually just getting food where he could, for doing odd jobs, and if he was really desperate, stealing a loaf of bread. This was new to the Russian.

Looking around the restaurant for a second, Alfred just smiled when he looked back to Ivan. "I haven't been here in a gosh darn long time." He remarked, leaning back in his chair. "But anywho. If ya gonna be my first real friend, I wanna get to know more 'bout ya." Because really, he had people he talked to and were friendly with, but he really couldn't call any of them friends.

"First?" Ivan asked in amazement. He was his first friend? But what about the girl he played the song for, what about the French cook? Were they just there, just for his normal life? How could Ivan be his friend, when all he asked was for the right to worship and protect him?

Alfred just nodded with a grin. "Surprisin' huh? Well, ya seem like a good fella, and it's easy t'talk t'ya. All yer gonna hafta t'do is learn to talk more buddy. Tell me where yer from in Russia. D'ya gots any family here? D'ya have any hobbies 'cept watchin' me play my trumpet?" Alfred added with a laugh.

Ignoring the other questions, because Ivan really didn't want to bring those memories up to the surface, he focused on the word he didn't know. "Hobbies?" He had never heard that before, so wasn't sure how to answer the question.

"Ha, there I go confusin' ya 'gain. Hobbies... Let's see..." Alfred paused to scratch his head in thought. "Things ya like t'do in yer spare time. Like me: I like ta read occasionally when I'm not buskin' or talkin' with you. Actually, hangin' 'round ya is startin' ta become a hobby o'er the last two days."

Oh... Ivan thought. Well, everything he had done up till now had mostly been based on what needed to be done to survive. Now was the only real time that he had to himself, and he had taken up following Alfred. He shrugged, unsure. "Walk."

Leaning forward in his chair Alfred continued to smile, his blue eyes lighting up. "Ya like exersize? No wonda yer so big. Yer like a tank." He joked, enjoying the fact that Ivan seemed to want to be his friend as well. "But ya didn't answer the other questions. Where ya from in big ol' Russia?"

"West. You? Family?" He could have probably formulated a whole sentence, but the chances of making a mistake would be greater. Ivan would prefer not talking at all, and just listening to Alfred, but he seemed to want him to talk back.

"Kinda an iffy subject but I know it'll come back 'round. L't'see... Well, my pops, ma and I lived here since I was just two months old. Then I gots a baby brotha and years passed. Now it's just me and my lonesome y'see? Ain't got no pops or ma or baby brotha. They all died when I was 'round ten or eleven. I neva really 'member."

Taking in a breath, Ivan lowered his head to look at the table. His beauty had been through so much pain at such a young age! How the world was cruel, letting people like the cook live with easy lives while Alfred had to endure so much.

Francis came out of the kitchen, two plates of crawfish in his hands. Hopefully the food would distract the large man. "Volia, Alfred. And Ivan."

Seeing the food, Alfred chirped. "Took ya long enough Francis!" He laughed, patting him on the back. "Just jokin'. These better be the most mouth waterin' crawfish you ever did make. I don't wanna make a bad impression on my friend."

"'Ow could you ever expect anything less from me?" Of course, Francis was also afraid of making a bad impression on Ivan, even though he probably already did that. Leaving the plates, he went back to the kitchen.

His mouth watering, Alfred grabbed the first one and waved it around a bit, showing it to Ivan. "So, what yer suppose'ta do is eat only the tail 'cause that's where all the meat is hidin', and if ya want'ta, you can suck all the spices and such from the head." Laughing a bit, he continued. "As we say down here, 'suck the head, pinch the tail'. Ain't no betta way of eating a crawfish, no sir-ee."

Looking down at the food, Ivan picked one up and followed his instructions. After all, if angel was telling him to do something, he would do it. The fish tasted different from anything he had ever had, but still good.

"Ya like it?" Alfred asked between bites of the tail meat and sucks on the heads. "I told ya, it's the best place yer gonna find in New Orleans." Already he had gone through a quarter of his plate and he was steadily depleting it.

Nodding, Ivan continued eating the fish. He felt bad, because it was his angel's money, but he could always pay him back. Although, it would take a while, if he kept getting eight dollars a day. He also had to pay him back for listening to the beautiful music.

Watching Ivan take a few bites, Alfred spoke up. "Hey, didn't I tell ya that y'were gonna hafta start talkin' more? I ain't never heard a Russian accent 'fore and I like it. Duh be shy."

"Sorry." Ivan said, even though he made no effort to add to the conversation. How could an angel possibly benefit from hearing him talk? Speaking was counterproductive at this point, as it was in most situations.

"How 'bout this," the American said through a mouth full of crawfish meat. "Speak'in Russian if it makes ya more comfortable. I just wanna hear what yer voice sounds like. I feel like I only eva get t'hear my own voice and it's gettin' kinda lonely, y'know?"

Putting the fish down, Ivan wiped off his mouth from the juices. "But..." He stopped there, not knowing how to explain that he liked only hearing Alfred's voice. The sound of it, the accent, it was just lovely. So unlike his own.

Laughing, Alfred waved it off. "I'now, I'now, I like t'talk enough fer both of us anyways. 'T's all good. If ya want me t'talk, I'll just hafta talk I guess. It's not a crime to be able t'do somethin' I like all the time." Finishing up with his crawfish, Alfred finally wiped his hands and mouth off on a napkin.

Well, at least he understood without Ivan having to voice himself. He pushed over his remaining plate of crawfish, figuring Alfred liked them more than he did, and he deserved more anyways.

"Why thanks, but I couldn't do tha'! I bought them fer ya, not me! Anywho, yer the one that gave me the money to buy them. At least eat an itty bitty one so I don't feel bad."

Complying, Ivan took the smallest crawfish left on the plate and ate it, enjoying it knowing that the rest would go to a better place. Surely, Alfred's mouth was a much better place then his own, considering their differences.

Smiling over at Ivan, the American crowed. "Much betta. Now if you'll 'scuse me, I have a few more mighty fine crawfish to devour." Doing just that, he was once again left with a plate full of shells. "You ain't had anythin' till you had Francis' crawfish, am I right?" Alfred laughed, taking the bills out of his breast pocket. "Let's see here... Aha! Six dollars should be fine for him. He usually gives me a plate for three, y'see? Dirt cheap."

Glad that Alfred would at least have some money left, Ivan watched him wipe his mouth. It was so nice, the paper napkin running along his full lips.

"Anythin' y'wanna do next? I dunno what you've seen and done 'round here so it makes it kinda tough..." He could always try to busk a little bit more since he had been eating for a while, but he didn't feel like it really. Not until Ivan decided he wanted to hear him play again. Alfred could always make an exception for his friend. "D'ya wanna go home now? I mean, I'm gettin' kinda tired from all this delicious food."

Nodding, Ivan stood up. He waited for Alfred before leaving the restaurant, wanting to walk him home. He would never have forgiven himself if some filthy creature did something to the American while he could have prevented it.


	4. Chapter 4

Basking in the hot June sun, Alfred waved his hat for cool air as he took a break from playing. As it had been for the last month, Ivan had been watching him play for the first half of the day, when he would disappear like he was now and then reappear when Alfred had moved to the street corner at sunset. It was strange, but he just figured that the Russia found a job somewhere because he would always try and offer him money that he would never accept without a small tiff.

Summer was one of the better times of year, since Mardi Gras and the Jazz festival were well over so more people were excited to hear him play. Alfred was getting so much extra he was actually thinking about investing in a new mouthpiece, or even a pair of shoes. That would work too.

Getting to the shop, Ivan went to Antonio to see what he would be doing today. Practically every day there was something for him to do, and if there wasn't he would go to another shop and try to find something to do there.

"Hello Ivan. Sorry but I don't have any money to spare today..." Antonio apologized, a small frown on his face. "There are things I need done though... Would you accept something from the store as payment? It's the most I can do at the moment unfortunately."

Something from the store? Ivan gave a small gasp and nodded. The small figurine of the trumpet was still there! It wouldn't be as good as giving Alfred some money, but he was sure he would like it.

Seeing that he accepted, Antonio smiled. "You may have whatever you want. I'm running out of business as it is. I just need some boxes filled and sorted in the back room."

Doing his assigned task, Ivan finished it and went back to ask for more. Surely that wasn't enough work for the was so precious, so delicately made. It wasn't as beautiful as Alfred's own trumpet, but that was because whenever he saw it, it was resting in the angel's hands.

With the sun starting to set in the humid sky, Alfred packed up as usual to go over to the street corner. It was usually about ten to twenty minutes from him going there that Ivan would show up, so he didn't feel bad as he took his trumpet back out and continued to play a fast and joyful piece.

Walking, Ivan knew he was late. He had wanted to wrap up the figurine carefully, but his big hands messed it up so many times that he ended up being late for when he was usually with his angel. He hoped desperately that he would not be disappointed that he didn't have any money today.

"Where's y'at?" Alfred sang immediately after his song was finished. It was fun trying to teach the Russian all the little wordings of his accent, even if he sometimes didn't understand them completely himself. Especially since they had started to actually spend more time together as friends, the American had heard more and more his one-of-a-kind accent.

"Aright." Ivan said automatically. He was getting used to it, but his normal accent was still horrible. He didn't walk up to him like he usually did, instead keeping his distance and looking to the ground. Maybe this would bring them closer, or maybe it would tear them apart. If worst came to worst, Alfred could sell the figurine for the money Ivan didn't give him.

Tilting his head to the side, Alfred asked with a smile. "Wha' ya doin'? 'T's not like ya to hang around like that. Ya gotta secret, huh?" Normally by now he would have already put a few dollars or maybe even a pair of fives in his case for them to argue about for a bit before giving up.

Taking the carefully wrapped package from his pocket, Ivan looked away as he passed it over. He didn't want Alfred thinking he had been given it for doing a little work, he wanted him to think he had earned it. That wasn't the truth, of course, Antonio was just too generous.

"For me?" Alfred asked with a smile, taking it out of Ivan's hand gently. "Ah man, ya shouldn't have! Y'know my birthday ain't for another month, righ'? 'T's still fine if I open it?"

Nodding, Ivan looked out of the corner of his eye to watch his angel unwrap it. Over the past month, not many people had touched Alfred, so he had not needed to protect him much. However, there had been an incident where someone had tried to take the money from his case. The Russian had found him later. Of course, Alfred didn't know that, because at the time he had said to let him go. But it was all worth it, because his angel was still safe.

Making sure not to drop it, Alfred put his trumpet away before he started to open it. When he could see the small figurine, his entire face light up like a tree while Ivan's seemed to start turning red. "No way! This is... This is amazin' Ivan!" He crowed, holding it in two hands. "It's so beautiful! Where did'ya find it?"

Glad that he seemed to like it, Ivan allowed him to release the breath he was holding. "Store." He mumbled, not wanting to tell him he got it at work. That would just seem like an easy solution and didn't hold much weight.

"Ivan... You don't know... This is... The last time someone gave me somethin' was when my baby brotha gave me my hat. Now, my closest and only friend gives me this work o' art." Not wanting to put the delicately constructed figurine down, Alfred continued to stare at it.

Still standing there, Ivan looked up at the last few tendrils of the sunset. Yes, this was a good offering for his angel, it obviously made him happy. When Alfred smiled was when he looked best, the only exception being when he played the trumpet.

Alfred sat down slowly, making sure that he didn't drop the amazing figurine. Placing it on his closed trumpet case, he continued to stare at it before looking up to Ivan. "Haha, ya look tall from way up there." Which he did. It was almost like the gentle giant but Russian and endearingly quiet.

Looking around, Ivan then stepped closer to the wall and sat down beside him. As long as his angel was the first to sit down, it was alright for him to do so. He looked away though, because he knew that if he saw Alfred this close, face to face, it would not be good.

"D'ya wanna try somethin'? I was thinkin', cause you did somethin' so nice fer me, I figured I could help you. D'ya wanna practice speakin' English? I promise I won't laugh or nuttin'. I'll give ya a sentence t'say and yu'll just copy me." Alfred said quietly still smiling as he looked at the trumpet. He wanted to ask how expensive it was, but he felt like it was too personal. After all, Ivan bought it for him just out of the kindness of his heart.

His angel wanted to help him? But his accent! Alfred would hear it, not just in a few words but full sentences? Wouldn't he hate him after that?

"I could even try ta speak proper English if ya like. 'T's kinda harder, but oh well. I'd be worth it t'hear you speak more than a few words." Turning toward Ivan, he smiled. "Don't'cha wanna actually have conversations with me? Unless yer waitin' fer me t'learn Russian."

Slowly, Ivan nodded. He would have an accent, a horrible accent, but he couldn't deny his angel. He was going to speak with him, even if it was just a repeat after me conversation, but he would still be able to listen to Alfred.

Thinking for a second, Alfred nodded. "Kay, I gots it. 'For life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.'" The American said with barely a trace of his natural accent. "How 'bout tha'?"

Taking a breath, Ivan opened his mouth. "For life, li-liberty and the purs-s-pursui-t of happiness." He was particularly embarrassed about his mess up of the word pursuit, but he had already said it and there was no way to fix it now.

"Now doesn't tha' feel great?" Alfred said, immensely proud of the Russian for actually talking. "Now I know ya can think in English somewhat, so ya can say what ya wanna now. Let me hear yer voice."

Biting his lip, Ivan looked down to the pavement. "For life, liberty and the p-u-r-s-u-i-t of happiness." He repeated, taking the word slowly so he wouldn't mess it up. His angel had said he wanted to hear his voice again, after all.

Smiling widely, Alfred clapped his hands. "Perfect! Yer accent ain't bad at all!" Leaning against the wall, he couldn't help but feel happy. Here he was, sitting in New Orleans with his best friend who had just said his first full sentence to him. Not only that, but the weather was perfect as the sun was slipping behind the horizon. "I can't believe ya hid it from me fer all this time!"

"I-I didn't..." He didn't hide anything from him besides the ugliness. Angels didn't need to see ugliness, and especially didn't need to hear ugliness when their own voices were so beautiful. He leaned against the wall as well, seeing dusk turn to night.

"Then what'cha call all those one word answers, huh?" The blond American goaded, letting himself fall against Ivan. "I really don't mind if ya talk or not, it's just nice t'hear yer voice, y'know? Betta then thinkin' you've gone mute."

This wasn't a pat on the back. This wasn't Alfred grabbing his wrist. No, now his angel was leaning against him! Ivan looked away, heartbeat increasing. He was just so beautiful, so perfect. He shouldn't be dirtying himself by leaning against Ivan.

Staying silent as well, Alfred couldn't handle it for too long before mumbling. "It's been a looong time since I met anyone as nice as ya. Sure most people are friendly, but tha's it. Ya actually spend time with me." Looking up to the sky, he started tracing some of the easier constellations in his mind. "D'ya know any o' the constellations here?" Alfred didn't know many; he preferred to make up his own every time he looked up at the night sky.

No, Alfred was mistaken, If he could read Ivan's thoughts, he would not think he was nice at all, and he wouldn't want to see him, or teach him the constellations. He wouldn't want to do anything with him, because he was dirty and horrible. He kept quiet, glancing up at the sky as well.

"Nah? Well neither do I really." He answered with a short laugh. "I just like t'make them up. I used'ta do that with my pops but yeah, things happened." More specifically a collapsed roof happened but Ivan didn't need to know that.

"See," He started, grabbing the Russian's much larger hand. "That's called the Awesome Blob of Doom cause it looks kinda blob-like, y'know?" Laughing, he let his arm relax into Ivan's; not thinking anything of the situation. "Ya can make one up now."

Pointing up, Ivan tried to show a few stars. "Сердце." He said, the Russian falling easily from his tongue. He couldn't remember the word in English, but Alfred seemed to want him to name one.

Pausing for a second, he looked over to Ivan with an eyebrow raised. "Was that Russian? Yer voice sounds soft when ya speak it. But I don't undastand, sorry." Letting himself slip down the wall, Alfred figured it wouldn't be bad since there wasn't anyone walking around. Without thinking about the implications, he rested his head on Ivan's thigh as he looked up to his face. "Ya ok with this?"

Suddenly, blood started pumping all throughout Ivan's body, to one place in particular. But that adrenaline rush must have been what brought the word to his mind. "Heart!" He blurted out, back stiffening. His angel was using his leg as a pillow!

"Is that what'cha said? Hmm, I see it." Alfred answered, squinting up at the sky. "Thanks fer not being all annoyed by me. Tons o' people like me enough when I be playin' them tunes, but without my trumpet I'm just a bum. I have a house, ya know that. I just need the money." He didn't noticed how Ivan's body tensed with his head on his thigh; still not used to having friends that he hadn't thought about it.

Glancing down, Ivan was disgusted with himself. If Alfred moved his head just a little closer, he would feel it! He would know how dirty he was, how unworthy he was. Of course, his angel had been the one to place himself there, but it still should not prompt such a reaction.

Another moment of comfortable silence passed over them both. For some reason, Alfred actually found himself with nothing to say. Maybe it was the perfect weather, or maybe it was the fact that he wanted to see just how Ivan stayed so quiet. He couldn't ever do it. Alfred was born to talk and play.

A few minutes later, Alfred jumped up. "I gotta go back home! I fergot I hadta clean tonight! Sorry Ivan, d'ya wanna walk home with me or is it too late?" He was going to have to find a way to carry his trumpet and his new figurine without breaking it.

Ivan stayed on the ground, knowing that if he stood up his problem would be obvious. "I will stay." He said with a little hesitation in his words. His angel couldn't know how he thought of him. Unless he felt the same way, which wouldn't happen. They were friends, and Alfred would keep it that way.

"I undastand. See ya 'morrow?" Alfred asked, standing up for a second. When Ivan nodded, he smiled and leaned back down to give him a hug. "Thanks 'gain fer the trumpet figure-thing."

Long after the figure was out of sight, Ivan stayed seated there, not daring to move. But he was in pain, his erection pressing against his zipper roughly. Still not standing, needing that lingering connection with Alfred, the Russian undid his pants and slowly pulled out his large member as he moved his hand over the surface, thinking of that hug. Wait, no, it was not his hand. Ivan closed his eyes, clearly seeing his angel coming back.

He offered to help, because that what angels did. Alfred was not walking home, he was in front - no, beside him. Two hands worked over Ivan's cock, whispered words lost in the dead of night to all but one pair of ears. Two pairs of ears. Words of love, of devotion. Words of caring and endearment. Personal words, words that Francis the cook had not heard. No, this was all for Ivan. Ivan, and his lover. Ivan and his angel.

* * *

...And this is where Ivan starts losing it...


	5. Chapter 5

Well, this is the second last chapter. Hope you guys all enjoyed the ride!

* * *

"Y'know, I originally thought I'd be in a big band." Alfred confessed as he looked up to the stars the next night from Ivan's lap again. "I even did music in high school with trumpet. Ya shouldn't be so surprised. I wouldn't know half t'stuff I know by myself. 'Pecially memorin' the stuff." Speaking of trumpet, Alfred's lips had started to feel sore so he was planning that in a day or two he would take a full day off from busking.

Tipping his head back to also look at the sky, Ivan was surprised to find he was more relaxed than yesterday with this position. "You are good." He had really been trying to speak more, say more full sentences to Alfred, since it always seemed to make him happy.

Grinning wide, Alfred laughed. "See? Ya missed out on not talkin' fer the first month! Ya barely have an accent anyways!" A moment of happy silence stretched as he continued with what he was saying. "Anyways, it's just yu'd think I'd be in a good band, but buskin's more my thing anyways. I get to have fun and make other's happy like ya."

"Thank you." Ivan grunted out, feeling the need to voice his thoughts. Today, Alfred seemed much more subdued than normal, like he was tired. It didn't matter though, because he enjoyed spending time with his lover at this time of night.

Alfred let loose a large yawn before covering his mouth with his hand. "Guess I'm tired, huh?" He joked, still not making any move to get up. "Ah well, 't's only natural I guess..." Still, he could barely control it as his eyes started slipping shut. Ivan's lap was actually quite a good pillow, making up for the coolness of the cement.

Watching as his eyes closed, Ivan tilted his head, looking at his angelic face. He was just so beautiful, and it all belonged to him. That was the benefits of having an other wordly lover. They were there when you needed, and the love lasted forever.

Singing a soft love song in Russian, Ivan lifted a hand to touch Alfred's hair lightly, loving how his fingers felt running through it. Especially when they were kissing. Yes, they kissed all the time now that they were together.

"This isn't botherin' ya, right?" Alfred asked again with his eyes still closed. He didn't want Ivan to think anything wrong about his intentions by doing this, he just thought it was comfortable. As long as Ivan didn't feel uncomfortable, he was fine. Even the fingers through his hair felt nice and soothing; reminding him of his ma.

"No." Ivan said, stopping only briefly in his song then continuing it as his boyfriend slipped again into sleep. He was so glad they had gotten together last night, because it was much more relaxing now. He let his head fall against the wall, enjoying the feeling of just living.

.oOo.

The sounds of his trumpet pealed through the humid air at the end of June as Alfred had his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. It was difficult to hit such high notes, but he figured that with the way Ivan seemed so absorbed in his playing he could pull out all the stops for the Russian. Ever since he got the figurine of the trumpet, Ivan had opened up to him and started to speak much more often. They were still simple sentences, but it made it easier to learn about the man and the enigma that was him.

Listening, Ivan would have closed his eyes if not wanting to take his sight off the moving figure before him. This was a performance completely and only for him. The music took him away just as it had on that first day, when Alfred had been playing.

Crescendoing as he built the solo to it's climax, Alfred continued to throw in various chords and blue scales to achieve an affect he had never thought of before. Why not try and make something new for his friend? After all, he had gone and bought him something that seemed to be expensive. All Alfred knew was that it held a part in his heart like his hat and trumpet did.

As the song ended, Ivan clapped, because he had found that that was the polite thing to do. It was just as great, if not greater, than all the other songs. He went closer to Alfred, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Seems like yer gettin' used'ta bein' 'round people and speakin' English. I gotta say I'm missin' the ol' Ivan but this one's just as great." Alfred laughed as he saw Ivan pout. "Now don't be gettin' it unda yer skin."

Nodding, Ivan ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you." After all, even if they were dating, it was still polite. He was getting used to saying those tiny phrases, not even caring as much about his accent. It was like it didn't matter as much anymore.

Laughing, Alfred put his trumpet back before patting Ivan on the back. "What're friends fer? I figured I could try a new method out and it sounded pretty darn good t'me."

Freezing, Ivan suddenly turned like a statue. Friend... friend? No they were lovers! They were dating, and Alfred had helped him... was he there at all? No, no no no, this couldn't be happening. Friend? Or lover? Alfred said friend. Alfred believed they were friends. To Alfred, they could only ever be friends.

"Y'ok?" Alfred asked Ivan quietly as he saw his friend freeze. What happened? Did he say something wrong? "Ivan, wha's wrong?" Suddenly the Russian reached out and grabbed his trumpet case before hurriedly marching off. "Hey! What'cha doin' with my instrument Ivan! Where are you going??"

Walking faster than normal, Ivan made the now-familiar route, having gone this way every night. They could never be more than friends. Never go father, no matter how much Ivan wanted it, no matter how much he needed it. Alfred was his air, and he needed as much of it before it was depleted.

"Ivan! I'm askin' ya wha's wrong?! Where ya goin' with my trumpet?" Catching up to the Russia, Alfred tried to take his trumpet back. "Y'know how much it means to me buddy!" What had happened? The American thought everything had been fine, but apparently it wasn't so.

"Just friends." Ivan said through clenched teeth. It didn't matter anymore if Alfred heard his horrible accent. After all, they were just friends. Angels couldn't be more, he should have seen it before. He kept moving the trumpet just out of his grasp. This way angel would follow, because the trumpet meant a lot to him. The trumpet was his prized possession. He always cared about the _trumpet_. The _trumpet _was worth dying for.

Still trying to get the trumpet out of his grasp, Alfred sighed. "Yeah, we're friends! I thought we kinda discussed this the day after we met." By now he was confused. Was Ivan trying to say he wanted more? Was being Alfred's only real friend not enough for him? "Buddy c'mon. Cool yer jets and let's talk about it. Unless ya think that'd be too gay 'r something. I just wanna know what's up."

He was even against gays! Well, Ivan would show him. They _could _be more, and they were going to be more, as soon as he got to where he was going. They were almost there, the Russian could just see it.

Seeing that they were getting close to his house made Alfred even more confused if that was possible. "Why r'we going'ta my place? If ya wanted to run away I would have gone'ta yer house. Not that I want ya t'run away." Because Ivan was his friend and he didn't want his friends to suffer like the big Russian obviously was.

Gripping the trumpet, Ivan looked ahead, refusing to look at angel. He wasn't his angel anymore, he was just angel. But that would change, oh yes it would change. "Not friends." He said softly, not even sure if Alfred had heard.

"What d'ya mean not friends? I still wanna be yer friend! C'mon buddy I trust ya! Tell me wha's up and we can get this here kerfuffle out o' the way."

No, he didn't want to be friends. That wouldn't be right. They should be lovers, or nothing at all. Going up the few steps, Ivan tried the handle but of course it was locked.

Alfred just barely grabbed onto Ivan's wrist as he was about to tear down his door. "Ok Ivan, I have a key if y'want in bad 'nough. Ya could'a just said somethin' though." Ivan still had his trumpet which normally wouldn't have bothered him, but with the way he was acting it made Alfred a bit nervous. Pulling his key out he unlocked it and the Russian pushed his way inside.

Looking around, Ivan looked for the bedroom. Once they were in there, he could put down the trumpet and everything would work out. He went to a door on the other side of the room, and the same in the next room. Then he hit the bedroom, so he turned around to find Alfred standing with a strange look on his face.

"Look, I don't mind ya wantin' t'see my house, but ya could'a said somethin'. I never thought 'bout it I guess." Alfred said with a small smile on his face. It was a bit weary though from the look Ivan was giving him. What exactly was he thinking? Alfred used to think he was just a simple man with simple pleasures but he sure didn't seem simple now. "How 'bout we shake and call it even? I'll give ya the grand tour and we can go back outside."

"No." Ivan said, putting the trumpet down on the bed. He made sure the door was closed, but was slightly disappointed it didn't have a lock. "Just friends." He hissed venomously, grabbing Alfred's upper arm.

His face falling to a frown, Alfred tried to pry his arm away. "Uh Ivan, yer hurtin' me. I'll follow ya if ya wanna go someplace." Of course they were friends, weren't they? As Alfred said, he thought that was established the second day they knew each other; never mind almost two months after. Something was wrong with Ivan, but he didn't know what.

Only tightening his hold, Ivan started dragging angel over to the bed. If he was going to defile him, dirty him, then it should at least be in a bed and not some alley. With a toss, he threw Alfred onto the bed, letting his hold go.

"Ivan, I'm not really likin' this." Alfred said, worry tainting his voice. Just what was happening? As soon as he tried to sit up to get off his bed, Ivan was holding his wrists down, pinning him with his body. "Really, just let me go. I'll play ya somethin'." He tried to bargain, ignoring the way his heart was racing in his chest.

"You said just friends." Ivan was practically shaking with anger now, not even noticing as he spoke an almost perfect sentence. They wouldn't be just friends. No, he couldn't stand it if they were just friends. They had to be more, or else his life was meaningless. Taking one hand off a wrist, the Russian roughly ripped Alfred's shirt open, buttons flying.

Pushing Ivan's chest back with his free hand, Alfred tried to scramble out from under him. "Woah woah woah, too far there buddy. I said cause we are! I thought ya said ya weren't bother by me puttin' my head in yer lap! Sorry, but it was just comfortable!" Alfred was pretty sure Ivan wasn't going to attack him to kill since they had been alone in the dark many times before. Why was it that he felt he was in danger now with the sun in the middle of the sky? "Ivan, just le' m'go and I'll pretend this didn't happen. I'll forgive ya."

Not letting him off the bed, Ivan pressed down to stop him from moving. "To just friends again." It didn't matter now if Alfred heard his accent. It didn't matter if he thought he was flawed. All that mattered was taking what was his.

"Ivan, just le' m'go." Alfred pleaded, starting to become scared of his friend; the one person he had trusted completely. "Just get off'a me." He was seriously considering kicking him even if it would hurt just so he could get Ivan off him. "I'm not gay, but if ya want I guess... I could kiss ya or somethin'. Get off'a me please."

Kiss? Did he really think this would be resolved by a kiss? No, it had to be this way. Better he dirty Alfred than someone else. Someone else touching him, doing these things to him. No, it had to be Ivan. They wouldn't be friends anymore. Ivan made sure angel wouldn't leave, by wrapping his legs around his waist. "No."


	6. Chapter 6

Starting to squirm, Alfred's panic only increased as he felt it was hard to move. "I trusted ya!" He yelled, not giving up yet. "Yer my only friend!" Alfred continued to try and get the large Russian man off him; bucking his hips to push him off.

That word again. "_Friend_." He hissed, bringing Alfred's small wrists to above his head so he could grab them with one hand. Now he had a free hand to pull the ripped shirt further down angel's arms, and took pleasure seeing his chest. Yes, this was an angel's chest. But it was never going to look the same, dirtied as it would be.

"Fuck Ivan! Don't do this! Ya don't hafta do this!" Alfred yelled and he twisted and bucked and spun to try and get Ivan off him. This was the first time in his life he felt powerless against another person, ironically enough, it was to the first person he had trusted completely. His hands were clenching and trying to pull away as his face was trained on Ivan's neck; too scared to see the insane glint in his stormy blue eyes. Alfred used to think they were pretty since in the right light they looked purple, but now they were setting fear into his body.

Using his free hand to begin undoing Alfred's pants, Ivan glared at his face. "Look at me." He should at least see who was dirtying him. Maybe this would teach angel to never trust people, because people were not like angels, they were flawed and ugly. But Alfred still didn't look at him, instead looking down. "_Look at me!"_

His face twitching in confusion of all the emotions he was feeling, Alfred looked up to Ivan's face. "I... I trusted ya." He whispered again, his forehead creased and his body shaking. "I fucking trusted ya!" This was the first day he had sworn at someone in a long time. "Why Ivan? Just le' m'go!"

"You hate me." Everyone hated him, so it was obvious angel hated him, he couldn't fall farther than that, so this didn't matter. Nothing mattered for him, his life was insignificant. Not like an angel's life. They live forever, so Alfred would need to learn to protect himself.

"I don't hate ya Ivan, I hate what'cha doin' to me right now!" Ivan's hand had paused over his crotch, making Alfred squirm more. His glasses were still on so he could see everything clearly which at the moment he couldn't decide if that was a good thing right now or not. "Just... Please don't touch me. Please Ivan, tha's all I ask."

See? He hated him. It was obvious, Alfred didn't want Ivan to touch him. He hated him, and would never do this willingly. This was the only way. How could Ivan even think they were lovers? They could never be lovers, this was the only way he could be close to him. Slipping his hand into the fly of angel's jeans, he felt the soft cloth there.

Alfred's spastic movements started again. "No! Ivan, I don't wanna do this!" He could feel the hand bruising his wrists and the other stroking lightly against his boxers hiding his flaccid cock. There was no way he would enjoy this if Ivan was going to take it by force. The pressure of the man sitting on his thighs made it hard to spin, but his chest arched and shook to try and get his hips to flip him off.

Now putting his hand under the elastic of Alfred's underwear, Ivan revelled at the skin on skin contact. So even angels had cocks. Perhaps they weren't perfect after all. Lifting himself, the tall Russian pushed the jeans down angel's legs, showing more heavenly skin.

Feeling the bile rise in his throat, Alfred tried to put his feet down on the bed to push Ivan off but he just sat back down and ruined his plan. "Ivan, Ivan please....Please Ivan..." He started to whisper, small tears forming in his eyes. He was a guy! He wasn't supposed to let other's take advantage of him!

He wasn't going to fall for those tricks. Ivan hadn't known that angels could play tricks, or that they could cry, but this proved him wrong. Dammit, the look on Alfred's face was too much. Quickly, he flipped him over so he was on his stomach, so he couldn't see the tears or the hurt look.

Using his emotions to help his as well as his adrenaline, Alfred managed to push up quickly with his elbows and knees which threw Ivan off balance for a second. Just as he was about to get free though, Ivan had pressed his weight on him again and roughly grabbed onto his cock. "Gawd! Let me go! I don't want t'be this way! I won't be yer friend if that's wha' ya want!"

Ivan didn't want to hurt him, but he was sure Alfred's wrists were going to bruise. It didn't matter, though, because he needed this. He didn't want to be friends, he wanted to be more! Didn't angel understand that? Didn't he realize?

"Say something!" He yelled, hating the feel of the Russian's hand on his manhood. "Tell me why!" Why the hell Ivan wanted to take advantage of his friendship, why he would think to do this in the first place. "Why Ivan? I didn't do anythin' to ya! I didn't mean to give you 'signals' if I did! I don't think 'bout things like that!"

Now pushing the boxers down as well, Ivan took his hand off of his cock to replace it at the back. "Love." He said simply. Alfred deserved an explanation, after all. It wasn't so much love as it was deeper than that, but love was the closest thing he knew in English to explain it.

More ashamed tears fell down the American's face. "Let m'go and we can talk! Please Ivan!" Having him touch him like that was bad enough as it was, but he couldn't imagine having the large man do what he was seemingly planning on doing. Because of that, he continued to rock and push and twist under the larger man, wanting nothing more than to be able to run away. Even if he had nowhere or no one to go to, it would be better than here.

Nothing angel could say would work, because Ivan was now determined. This was going to happen, and nothing would stop him. He pushed in two fingers, pushing past the resistance there. Obviously it was difficult, because there was no lubricant, but it would have to do.

"Shit!" The burning pain was too much for Alfred right now. He didn't want to be... To be raped! That was what was happening to him, Ivan was going to rape him. He didn't want to say it, but it was the truth now. Now that he had fingers up his ass there was no going back. Ivan had Alfred right where he wanted him. All he wanted to know now was why it was him. Why not some other person? "Ivan..." He groaned in pain and sadness, still struggling.

Thrusting his fingers in and out, Ivan tried his best to stretch him at least a little. He knew that it would definitely rip if he didn't do this, and he at least wanted to not give him that problem on top of the others. Angels shouldn't bleed.

If it wasn't already insulting enough that his only and best friend was now sexually assaulting him, Alfred could feel that he was starting to get hard from the touch. Even his body was betraying him! It was getting more and more difficult to squirm out of the grasp as the optimistic blond started to lose his energy.

Hooking his fingers, Ivan wanted to find his prostate. Then Alfred would feel good too, and it wouldn't be so bad if they were both feeling good. He was already hard from seeing angel like this, so he tried to hurry the stretching and added a third finger.

Alfred let out an embarrassing moan, sobbing openly after it. "Stop touching me!" Alfred yelled pathetically, squeezing his hole against Ivan's fingers. Having three fingers up there was the most he had ever had and definitely more than he ever wanted. "I'll... I'll jerk ya off, how 'bout that? Just don't rape me!" He hurried to compromised, his voice shaking and cracking.

Ignoring the pleas, Ivan pushed his fingers in all the way, pulling them apart to make the hole bigger. Then he took them out, not being able to wait any longer. Quickly undoing his own pants, the Russian took out his large cock.

"No!" He screamed, thrashing around wildly as he heard the Russian's zipper being undone. "Please! No! Gawd Ivan! This isn't what ya wanna do!" He sobbed again as his glasses pressed uncomfortably into his face as it was on the bed. "Let me GO!" Alfred never knew he could feel so ashamed and so scared at the same time.

Taking Alfred's hands, Ivan held them against his back so he could also hold him down. That was when he straddled him, going closer as he held his cock in one hand. No matter what angel said or did, he couldn't stop.

Screaming out in the unlikely chance someone could hear him, Alfred couldn't believe what was happening. He never thought he had a chance of being raped. That was something that happened to young girls in New York and L.A., not men almost about to celebrate their twentieth birthday. It wasn't until he felt the hard flesh start to push it's way past his slightly stretched hole that Alfred's throat started to hurt with his cries. To distract himself, he dug his nails into his back until it started to bleed.

Seeing the red, Ivan stopped. He pushed the hands up Alfred's back, rubbing the crescent moon marks. "Don't." He said firmly. Angels weren't supposed to bleed, it was just wrong. They were too perfect to bleed, too pure.

"Yer... Yer doin' _this_ and yer tellin' me not to hurt m'self?!" Alfred said venomously, wanting to focus on getting Ivan off him. With his arms behind his back it was going to be more difficult, but he had already decided he wasn't going to let this happen. The head was stretching his hole painfully and tears were still pricking his eyes from behind his glasses.

Once again pushing forward, Ivan couldn't believe that he was _inside _angel. It wasn't a fantasy anymore, it was reality. His free hand, that had a small smudge of blood on it now, went under Alfred, so that he could touch his cock.

Growling, the small blond couldn't do anything but thrash around more as his own length was touched. This was probably one of the times in his life where he had nothing more to say. Ivan wasn't going to stop, and he wasn't sure what he would do if he suddenly got off him and expected to be forgiven. With this, Ivan had made it impossible to trust him.

As soon as he was fully inside him, Ivan pulled out and went back in. Because there was no lubrication, the friction made it difficult, but that wouldn't make him stop. It was tight inside, so tight it felt almost as if his shaft was being cut in half, but it still felt good.

Alfred let out a whimper of protest as Ivan continued to thrust in and pull out in a slow pace. With no lube, barely any stretching and no experience of having something up there, he was in immense pain. The raw friction felt like it was going to make him bleed soon, even if the Russian was trying to pretend like both parties were enjoying it. The only thing that even felt remotely good was the hand on his dick, rubbing it in time with the thrusts.

Squeezing the head of Alfred's cock, Ivan wanted him to feel as good as possible. His thrusts started getting faster, the friction burning their skin. "Perfect." He whispered, because angel was incredibly perfect, even when he was being defiled.

More pained and desperate moans came from Alfred as Ivan continued to pound into him without abandon. All he wanted was a friend! What made him think to do this?! Not that he pitched for the other team, but he would have been willing to try without putting out just to see if it'd work.

It wasn't too noticeable at first, but Alfred could tell that the cock inside him had worn the sensitive skin and he has started to bleed. There wasn't much to begin with, but it had continued to flow until it had made it easier on his rapist -not friend, Alfred didn't think he could ever trust him after this- to thrust deeper.

This was bad, he was bleeding! He had made angel bleed! But there was nothing to do, so he just kept thrusting. It made it way easier, because it worked for lubricant. He made his hand go faster, wanting them to cum at the same time.

Too tired and worn to fight back with enough power to actually become loose, he let the heavy weight on top him continue to bring them both to orgasm. There was nothing Alfred could do now. There was no way he would be able to live a normal life after this.

Ivan could tell he was about to finish, so he thrust a few more times and was glad when he felt a wetness on his hand, signifying that Alfred had orgasmed. Because of that, he let himself release his seed deep inside angel.

Gasping as he climaxed, Alfred felt disgusted and ashamed with himself. Soon after he felt Ivan suddenly stop thrusting as he released his cum inside his bleeding, torn ass. Immediately after, he let his face fall onto the pillow, sobbing openly. This was the worst he had felt in his life, both mentally and physically. He was too upset with himself to even get angry with Ivan for staying pressed against himself for an extra minute.

Pulling out slowly, Ivan let his now-limp cock fall from his wet hole. He took his hand out from under Alfred, wiping it on the sheets. Then he let his wrists go, breathing hard. It was over, it was done. Now was the end of it, so he got off of him and sat on the edge of the bed. Yes, he knew what he just did was bad. After all, he had just defiled angel in the worst way.

Alfred just lay there in shock, only moving to curl up on his side and take his glasses off. If anyone was to see him like this, they wouldn't have believe it was Alfred since he was normally so optimistic and cheerful. Now it was like Ivan had absorbed everything good in his life and left him to realize that he was alone. No one would care if he just stayed here. No one would wonder why he wasn't playing his trumpet out in the city. No one cared. Ivan had been the one to keep him interested for the last two months, but now it was nothing.

Tears continued down his face, knowing full well that Ivan was still sitting there but not finding a word to say to him. After everything that had just happened, he didn't deserve anything Alfred could say; vile or otherwise.

Still silent, Ivan stood up from the bed. He tucked himself into his pants, and zipped them up. Then, he went to the door, opening it up and stepping out. He would leave, he had to. He couldn't let angel see him again.

As soon as the door to his bedroom closed, Alfred grabbed the small trumpet from his side table -he had been so _proud_ of it- and threw it against the wall. It's small pieces fell to the floor silently like the American's tears did from having his body so broken. Laying on his side, Alfred ignored the blood and cum oozing from his ass and the way his entire spine seemed to be on fire. There was no way he could live normally again. Trust had become an idea of the past; one he had shared much too willingly.

Ivan paced around the small kitchen, hands pulling at his hair. He had done that to angel! How could it be possible? Horrible, horrible, horrible. He had ruined the best thing in the world! He had to be the worst person ever for doing that!

Looking at the counter, Ivan saw a large kitchen knife. Slowly he grabbed the handle, turning it around in his hand. Then he went back through the doors, going once again to Alfred's bedroom.

Alfred heard his door open again and his body spasmed when he saw it was Ivan. "No, leave me alone! Y'a'ready raped me!" He yelled, crawling to the headboard with the blanket wrapped around his naked, bleeding body.

Going closer to the bed, Ivan put down the large knife right in front of Alfred. Then, kneeling on the bed, he lifted his head, leaving his neck vulnerable.

He glanced at Ivan with fear in his eyes before hesitantly reaching for the knife. When he felt that the Russian wasn't going to pick it up, he snatched it and held it with a shaking hand. "Now get outta my house if ya wanna see another day."

Lowering his head, Ivan looked at him, clutching the knife. Did he not understand? "Please." He said, lifting up his head again. Angel deserved to do this, to take his meaningless life.

"Ya... Ya want me t'kill ya?" Alfred shook, almost dropping the knife from his convulsions. He was angry with Ivan; hell, he would kill him. If it wasn't the fact that no matter what happened to him, he couldn't handle taking another person's life. Right now he would be upset for letting this happen, but he would also have the guilt weighing him down if he murdered the man.

Nodding, Ivan made sure to not look at him, for he did not have the right to. His dirty self should never look at angel, should never have done those things to angel. He needed to die, there was no other way. It had to be angel doing it, or it wouldn't mean anything.

There was a flicker of anger that almost had Alfred lashing out at the man, but it quickly disappeared. How could he ever do it? This man... This man had once been his friend. Just an hour ago, they had been talking and laughing and being together. Now... "I can't do it... Just... Leave..." His body continued to tremble, nervous he would become upset and turn the knife on Alfred.

Closing his eyes, Ivan gave a short nod. He couldn't go against what angel wanted, after all. He got up and left the house, thinking of where he was going to go.

Alfred was starting to slip into a strange numb feeling as time went by. He kept the knife close by him on the bed, in case Ivan did come back and wanted to try again. There was no way he could kill him, but he wouldn't hesitate to cut him up a bit. Just to show that he meant business when armed.

About the time he slipped into a cold sweat, the American felt nausea rising in his throat but couldn't be bothered to get up. Instead, he just leaned over the side of his bed and let his stomach release the food inside; burning his oesophagus with the taste of shame. There was nothing he could do, no one he could turn to. All he did was lay there on his blood stained sheets, rocking himself to sleep with the smell and taste of vomit overpowering his senses. Ivan was his only friend, and only enemy.

The End


End file.
